


The one where you won't know til you open the box

by Trojie



Series: Stories that aren't about cats [4]
Category: RocknRolla (2008)
Genre: Drunk Dialing, Homophobia, M/M, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-10
Updated: 2010-12-10
Packaged: 2017-10-13 14:46:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trojie/pseuds/Trojie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One Two can't take it any more. He has to know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The one where you won't know til you open the box

**Author's Note:**

> Handsome Bob still has a dirty mouth. One Two is drunk. Betaread by photoclerk.

Two weeks after the Stella-Lenny-bloody Russians clusterfuck, they roll into the Speeler as usual. Fred's dealing out the cards.

'Oi, Handsome,' says Mumbles. 'I hear you're not seein' your boy-toy no more.'

Bob grins, dirty-like, and picks up his hand. 'I think I was 'sposed to be _his_ boy-toy, Mumbles.' He shrugs. 'He done us a good turn, so I had a drink with him, like I said I would. But he's not my type.'

And the conversation turns, as conversations do, to other topics, but One Two doesn't hear 'em. He loses a lot, that night, and drinks a lot too.

When eventually it's time to go home, it's just him and Bob in the car again - Mumbles has a girl to be seeing and Cookie has one of his little business arrangements to attend to.

'So, y'didn't then. With Bertie,' One Two asks abruptly when they're a few blocks from his flat.

'Didn't what?'

'Don't make me say it, Bob.'

'Why not? You want me to, don't you?' He's grinning like this is a joke, like he always does now - he knows it makes One Two uncomfortable.

'Just a yes or no would do,' One Two points out. It's a simple enough question, surely?

'If you don't tell me what the question is, I can't answer you,' says Bob, 'There's a lot of things I coulda done with Bertie, y'know. Some of them you might even know the names of.'

'Jesus, Bob, I don't wanna know!'

'Then why'd'you keep asking me, One Two? You're the one that always brings it up.'

They arrive at One Two's flat, and Bob turns the engine off. He shifts in his seat so they're facing, the seatbelt straining over his torso. 'C'mon, ask me. Ask me whatever the fuck it is you wanna know. If it'll set your mind at rest, then ask me, and then maybe, just maybe, you can get that stick out of your arse over this whole thing, alright?'

One Two feels his face heat up, and he fumbles for the door catch. 'I changed my mind,' he says. 'I don't want to-'

'It's the fucking, isn't it,' Bob says, and his face softens a little. 'That's what you wanna know I didn't do with him - you wanna know I didn't let him have me like that.'

'Bob-' One Two's voice is hoarse, he can hear it and he kicks himself, because the last thing he wants is to seem like he's … emotionally invested in this, or something. He doesn't care. He _doesn't_. What Handsome Bob does with his special bloody friends is Handsome Bob's business and no-one else's.

'He didn't,' Bob says, cutting One Two off. 'Okay, he didn't, because that's not what he likes - he likes a bit of rough, yeah, he likes a bit of danger. He never wanted to do me like that, One Two - he wanted me to do him. D'you get it now?' He sighs. 'Does it make it any better if it's not me that's taking it up the arse?'

'Christ,' One Two says, thickly. 'But … that night, what you said to me-'

Bob's gaze is intense - he's been avoiding looking at One Two this whole time, but now he looks up, stares straight into his eyes. He licks his lips. 'Cos I didn't think you'd wanna hear the other side of it, mate, and that's the truth.' He even laughs, a little strained, a little rueful. 'And I'd do whatever you wanted, anyway. Just - whatever, if it meant I got your hands on me. But no, it's not usually me on the receiving end. I may be gay, but I'm not a fucking fairy, One Two.'

'I know you're not,' is all One Two can think of to say. He knows that, he does. He doesn't think Bob's a _girl_ or anything. To forestall any further stupid talking, One Two undoes his seatbelt. 'Cheers for the lift,' he says, and gets out of the car. 'See you tomorrow night?' he asks, striving for normality.

'Same time, same place, same fucking channel,' Bob replies cheerily, tipping him a salute. 'Sweet dreams, One Two,' he adds, and drives off.

One Two sinks into bed with Bob's words, all of them, from that night before he was supposed to go to prison right up until tonight, swirling through his head. And maybe he's drunk, okay, yes, he's definitely drunk, but when he decides he needs a wank and can't do it without thinking about Bob's voice, low and urgent, and he can't get there, he can't, not by himself, he grabs his phone.

'Mm? One Two, that you, mate?' Bob sounds sleepy, and that doesn't help, that makes One Two think of Bob in bed.

'Bob,'

'Yeah?'

'Bob, I need you to-' One Two breaks off, not sure how to ask.

'What is it, One Two? You okay? You need me to come over?' Bob asks, sounding more awake now, and worried. 'I can be there ASAP-'

'No! No, no, I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm just …'

There's a relieved sigh. 'You're just drunk,' Bob says, sounding a little fond. 'Did you pocket-dial me or something, man? This isn't your usual. Go back to sleep.'

One Two almost whines in frustration. 'No, I just … Bob, I need you to, I need you to talk to me, Bob, please.' He's got his hand around his cock, not even knowing how to move because all he can think of is, how would Bob touch me?

Bob has to hear it in his voice, because there's a pause, and the distant sound of Bob clearing his throat, before he asks, 'What do you want me to talk about?'

'Tell me what you really want,' One Two finally asks, finally finally finally, with a gut full of beer and his pants round his fucking ankles and his hand loose on his cock, waiting for instruction.

Bob's breath gusts down the phone. 'Shit, One Two,' he says, voice cracking.

'I have to know,' One Two says, insistently. 'I have to fucking know, alright Bob? I can't stop thinkin' about it, and I have to, so I have to know. You have to tell me.'

'Alright, mate, alright. I'll tell you.'

'Tell me everything.'

'Everything, I swear. Christ, One Two, just, fucking - fuck. Alright.' There's a pause, a long one, and One Two is starting to get second thoughts, when Bob's voice comes through again. 'I wanna have you, One Two. In case you didn't know. I wanna get you down on that stupid mattress you call a bed, and I wanna drive you mad with it, mad for me, I wanna hear you swear at me. I wanna wrap my hand around your fucking cock and -' One Two starts to move his hand, up and down, finally getting some relief as Bob talks to him.

Bob pauses, swallows so hard it's audible down the phone, and says '- Jesus, but first I wanna kiss you, cos you know kissing, that's one thing I know you know how to do, and I know you're not gay and you don't want me to want you, but I do, One Two, and I want you to want me back, so I'll start by kissing, til you're feelin' it, and then I'll touch you, anywhere I can reach, anywhere you let me, til I find the places you like, and when you're gasping I'll suck you. I meant that, back before.'

One Two's hand is now wet, tight, he's fucking his own fist in earnest. Bob's voice is wrecked, an edge of desperation to it. 'I wanna do whatever you want,' Bob says, as if he's determined to get that point across, 'I wanna have you in me, I meant that, I wanna feel that, but you wanna know what, what else I - and I want - Christ. I wanna suck you til you're moaning and I wanna roll you over and touch you where no-one's touched you before, slick my fingers up and work you open; you don't know what that's like, but I promise you, I _promise_ you, it feels amazing, I'd make it so good for you, One Two, you wouldn't ever go back.'

There's something dark and dirty in Bob's voice now, and One Two reckons his hand must be a blur now, he's stroking himself so hard and so fast, but he still can't find it, still can't quite get there. 'Are you touching yourself?' Bob asks. 'You must be, I can hear you,' and he sucks in a deep breath. 'Get your other hand, mate-'

'Bob-' One Two pleads, not knowing where this is going, if this is a good idea or not.

'D'you trust me?' asks Bob. 'You heard me, One Two, c'mon. You know I wouldn't steer you wrong. Just. Just, swap hands, okay? Trust me. Swap hands, and get the wet one, the one all covered in your mess, get that one and just reach back-' His voice is gentle now, scratchy round the edges from breathing hard, but gentle and firm. 'That's where I'll touch you, mate, work my fingers in you, and I bet you won't believe me, but I'll have you begging me to get in you by the end.'

One Two now has the damp slipperiness of one hand between his arse cheeks. It just feels strange, not good and not bad, just strange, kinda shivery and tantalising, like there's something there, but he hasn't opened the box to find out what it is yet.

'Do you want me to, to push …' he asks, and there's a quiet moan from Bob's end.

'N-no, just- fuck, One Two, are you close, mate? Are you nearly there? I wanna get you there-'

'I'm close,' One Two grits, realising it's true as his cock jerks in his hand. 'Bob, I'm, I'm fucking close, man, I-'

'I wish I was there,' Bob breathes. 'I'd pull my fingers out of you and push in, and you'd feel amazing, I can't even begin to - it's better than a bird, One Two, God, you have no fucking idea, it's better than _anything_ , so fucking tight, so fucking hot, I want that, I want you - I want you to feel that, I wanna show you how so you can do that to me too, I-'

And the way he says it, choked and hopeful and so desperately turned on, is what pushes One Two over the edge, groaning like a dying man with one hand between his arse cheeks and one wrapped around his cock and his chin on his mobile phone, panting like he's run the London Marathon.

Bob's voice breaks as he asks 'One Two, have you- did you, Christ-'

And 'Yeah, Bob, yeah, I-' and a tiny noise, a sigh almost, from Bob's end.

One Two must fall asleep after that, because he wakes up in the morning with a dead phone under his face. When he plugs it in to charge, he's missed a call from Bob.

He doesn't call back.


End file.
